


Never Really Over

by bryoneybrynn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Sad pandas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-18
Updated: 2015-05-18
Packaged: 2018-03-31 05:16:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,812
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3965794
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bryoneybrynn/pseuds/bryoneybrynn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Draco pops into the market for some peanut butter and finds more than he was looking for.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Never Really Over

**Author's Note:**

  * For [c0ntrarywise](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=c0ntrarywise).



> For the lovely and understanding c0ntrarywise, who gave me a fluffy prompt of "peanut butter" and didn't complain when I turned it into an angst-fest. ;)
> 
> And yes, I have since learned that peanut butter is not much of a sought-after commodity in England but, well, Draco likes to be particular. Go with it. *g*
> 
>  
> 
>  **Warnings:** Sad pandas
> 
>  **Beta:** [](http://abusing-sarcasm.livejournal.com/profile)[](http://abusing-sarcasm.livejournal.com/)**abusing_sarcasm**
> 
>  **Disclaimer:** : This is a work of fanfiction. Harry Potter et al belong to JK Rowling, her publishers and associated movie studios. No profit was made from this work. All characters depicted in sexual situations are above the age of 18.

 

Never Really Over

Draco moved briskly through the small Muggle market, focused on getting what he came for and getting out. It had been a long day and he wanted to go home.

He didn’t shop there often. He preferred the market around the corner, the one run by an old wizard that had the hidden second floor with wizarding foods and supplies and the sweets of his childhood. But that market didn’t carry peanut butter and this one did. Muggles, for all they got wrong, got some things incredibly right and peanut butter was one of them. He’d tried to find a decent substitute – god, how he’d tried – but nothing could match its smooth, creamy texture, its rich, pure taste.

Draco wound his way through the busy aisles, his feet carrying him on a path long since memorised. His peanut butter was where it always was, ready and waiting. With a small smile, he plucked a jar from the shelf and then turned to head towards the checkout.

Only to see Harry standing in front of the dairy freezer, a tub of ice cream in his hand.

Harry, who he hadn’t seen in eight months, not since that last fight when they’d shouted and screamed and Draco had thrown Harry’s favourite bowl at the wall, shattering it, and Harry hadn’t even tried to fix it, but had instead left the flat and not come back until late that night. Not since they’d spent hours sitting there in the dark of their home (on the sofa they’d picked out together, Harry’s Quidditch magazines and Draco’s newspapers littering the coffee table, the quilt Molly made for them last Christmas in a heap on the floor) talking and talking until the sun came up, finally agreeing that there was nothing left to save. Draco had gone off to work. Harry had packed up his things and moved out before Draco returned. A month later, Draco had done the same, not wanting to live any longer with the ghosts of their failed life all around him.

_Harry._

Any second now, Harry was going to turn, was going to see him standing there gaping like an idiot, see how his heart was in his throat, how he suddenly couldn’t get air into his lungs...

Harry did turn, but not towards Draco. Instead, he turned towards the dark-haired man standing to his left. He held out the tub of ice cream and said something Draco couldn’t hear. The man stepped closer – much too close to be anything but a boyfriend – and took the ice cream from him with a slow smile that cut through Draco like a boning knife through a fish.  
  
He had to get out of there.

Of course, it was at that exact second that Harry _did_ turn towards him. His eyes landed on Draco and his face lit up in recognition.

Then Harry started walking over.

_Fuck._

Draco steeled himself as Harry approached, the boyfriend close on his heels. The boyfriend was good-looking in a cute, fresh-faced sort of way. Harry was gorgeous, just as always. He stopped a few feet away from Draco. For a moment Draco thought Harry was going to pull him into a hug, but Harry just smiled and even that was hard enough to bear.

“Harry,” he said with a nod. Not much of a greeting, but at least his voice didn’t shake.

Ignoring all the rules of strained small-talk with exes, Harry didn’t ask after his health or comment about the weather, but instead happily blurted, “What are you doing here?” as if Draco’s presence was a wonderful surprise planned just for him.

“Shopping.” Draco held up his jar of peanut butter.

Harry smiled at him again with a warm, affectionate smile that seemed to belong to another lifetime. “Still hooked on that stuff, huh?”

“Looks like.”

He couldn’t think of anything else to say. Silence stretched out awkwardly between them. Or at least it was awkward for Draco. Harry was just _looking_ at him, still smiling that smile.

Draco cleared his throat and forced himself to speak. “And you? I thought you’d moved away from –” _me, us, our life_ “– this area?”

“Oh, I did,” Harry said, finally having the grace to look away. “Er, Elliot lives around here.” He looked at the boyfriend then, as though just realising he was still there. “Oh, shit, sorry. Draco, this is Elliot Stewart. Elliot, Draco Malfoy.”

Draco saw something flicker across Elliot’s face at the introduction. He wondered if it was about him being a Malfoy or if Elliot was just now clueing in that Draco was Harry’s ex. Whatever it was, it passed. Elliot held out his hand and smiled broadly. “Hi Draco. Nice to meet you.”

Draco shook his hand. Elliot’s grip was firm. Too firm to be natural. The ex thing, then. Draco struggled not to sneer at the obviousness of the gesture.

Harry, oblivious as ever, was back to _looking_ at Draco. “You’re still living around here, then? I’d heard you’d moved as well.”

“I did, but only a few blocks away.” Draco didn’t elaborate. Harry didn’t need to know that, while he couldn’t stay in the flat they’d shared, he also couldn’t bring himself to leave the neighbourhood that had been their home.

“Yeah. I don’t blame you for staying. It’s nice here. Sometimes I think about coming back,” Harry said and Draco’s heart stuttered. “My house now, I like it, but the neighbourhood just doesn’t feel the same as here.”

Elliot smiled at Harry’s words and something about it made Draco’s stomach twist. Dear god, was Harry thinking of moving in with his new boyfriend? Fuck, he needed to leave. Immediately.

He forced a smile. “Yes, it’s a special place. But I’ve kept you two long enough. I’ll let you get on with your evening. Elliot, nice to meet you. Harry, good to see you again. Take care.”

He turned and walked away. It took everything in him not to run.

“Draco!” Harry called after him.

He pretended not to hear. He strode towards the front of the store, depositing the peanut butter on a random shelf on the way. He was almost out the door when he heard Harry’s voice calling him again. He didn’t stop; he didn’t even slow. He exited the store and set down the street at a brisk pace.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t brisk enough.

“Draco!” Harry shouted. “Fuck, Draco, don’t make me chase you!”

Draco stopped and closed his eyes. He took a slow, deep breath. When he heard Harry come up behind him, he opened his eyes and turned to face him.

“What do you want, Harry?”

“What do I –” Harry broke off, frowning. “I haven’t seen you since... You haven’t been around at all. No one’s seen you. No one’s –” He pushed a hand through his hair. “I want to talk to you. I want to know how you are.”

“I’m fine.”

“Really?” Harry’s eyes searched Draco’s face.

Draco stared back evenly. “Yes, of course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“What have you been up to?”

“The same things I’ve always been up to. Work, friends, keeping an eye on my mother.”

There was a pause and he could practically hear the thoughts whirling around in Harry’s head. Draco was quite sure none of them touched on anything he wanted to talk about.

“You never come by the Leaky anymore,” Harry said at last. “Or the Stag’s Heart.”

Draco shrugged. “Those were always your places. I prefer a different kind of atmosphere.”

And now there were things moving behind Harry’s eyes, things that Draco didn’t want to see, that could only hurt both of them. “Please, I just want –”

“Shouldn’t you be getting back to your boyfriend?”

Harry blinked and looked briefly irritated. “He’s fine.”

“Really? He’s fine with the fact that you abandoned him in a Muggle market to go running after your ex?”

“He understands. I’m not worried about him right now.”

“Well, maybe you should be.” Harry opened his mouth to object but Draco held up a hand, cutting him off before he could start. “Look, I’ve had a long day. If there’s something you want to say, just say it and let me go home.”

Harry stiffened at Draco’s words but when he spoke, his voice was soft. “That day,” he said, and Draco didn’t have to ask which day he was referring to. “I didn’t think it would be the last time I’d see you, that you’d just be... We spent three years of our lives together. Can’t we at least be friends?

“Friends? And what would that look like? Me stopping round to listen to a bit of Quidditch on the wireless? Us going down to the pub for a pint?”

Harry nodded. “If you wanted to, sure.”

Draco gave Harry a dubious look. “We have never, _ever_ been able to spend time in each other’s company without fighting or fucking. What makes you think that’s changed?”

“I don’t know. I reckon it hasn’t changed, but I just –”

Draco interrupted him again. “Harry, I get it, I do. But it won’t work.”

“You can’t know that,” Harry protested. “We could try, at least.”

Draco took a step forward so that they were only inches apart. He made no move to touch Harry. He just stood there and looked at him, catching Harry’s gaze, holding it. Draco could feel Harry’s breath against his skin, could feel the heat of their bodies warming the air between them. And he could feel _it_ , feel _them_ , feel the wild, sparking energy that drove them to each other again and again, that put fire into every word, every look, every touch. It surged over Draco, his body responding with the rush of blood, the quickening of breath. He could see the same happening to Harry, his breath hitching, his pupils dilating. Draco had to curl his hands into fists to keep himself from touching him.

“You see?” Draco said softly. “It won’t work.”

He stepped away.

Harry closed his eyes and seemed to struggle against himself for a moment. Draco watched him, and knew what he was thinking about – what would he give to feel that again? What would he put up with? What was it worth? When Harry opened his eyes, Draco looked away, not wanting to see what was sure to be there.

He felt exhausted.

“Just say good night, Harry. Let me go home.”

“Draco...”

“Please,” he said, letting the strain he felt come into his voice, hoping Harry would hear it and understand.

Harry seemed to because he nodded his head and gave Draco a tight smile. “Good night, Draco.”

“Good night, Harry.”

Draco didn’t wait for Harry to start back towards the market and his boyfriend. Instead, he turned his back on Harry and walked away quickly. He didn’t look back.  


 

 

*


End file.
